


Not knowing when the Dawn will come

by middlemarch



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: American Civil War, F/M, Ficlet, First Kiss, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 19:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9673478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: He was an intelligent, experienced man of forty-odd but it didn't seem that way.





	

Jed had lain in the bed for an hour, trying to convince himself he would, he could sleep before he gave it up as a failure. When he closed his eyes, he felt her mouth on his, the curve of her waist under his hand, her palm against his cheek. No woman had ever kissed him so before—his wife never liked his caresses and had not concealed it, the French courtesans had not pretended theirs was not a transaction, his mistress had been all urgent, teasing desire but affection had been in short supply. Mary had shown him how she loved him, with all her virtue and all her misgivings. She had tasted of tea, of clover honey they had not had in months, of the sweetness of May; she had not been shy but she was not bold. When she stepped back, he had seen the girl she had been, the widow she was, he remembered her face in the long nights of his withdrawal and knew she remembered his.

He found himself in front of her door, his hand flat upon the wood when he had not been able to knock. She had said “Good night” and he had repeated it. She had meant it was enough, what she had given him and it should have been but he was a greedy man. And yet he stood at her door, barefoot, in braces and without his coat, where anyone could see him. The hall was empty but it might not be and if he cared, he should leave. He did care and he could not. When she opened the door, he stood before her and did not wonder that she had known, though he had only whispered the name her touch had drawn from him, 

“May. May, I--” and then she had nodded. He caught the gesture in his hand and the paisley shawl she had wrapped herself in fell to the ground as he pressed his lips to her cheek, her jaw. He felt the tortoise-shell comb that held her hair back from her face, felt the dark curls that streamed over her shoulder, felt her breath in his mouth, the soul in her body and how it cleaved to his. He knew he loved her and what he would have to say to tell her,

“Good night.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a response for an anonymous prompt on Tumblr which requested "what happened next?" after Jed and Mary's hallway kiss "...what if Jed had his wits about him, would he go back and knock on Mary's door?
> 
> The title is from Emily Dickinson, my best girl.


End file.
